by Mary Burton
Cole scooped him up before he could grab the brass door handle. “Hang on, Mac.” He hoisted the boy on his hip and opened the door.
Frantic, Rebecca stared up at him. Wisps of hair had fallen loose from the chignon and framed her tear-streaked face. His gut clenched with sadness at the sight of her, before he ruthlessly subdued the tender emotion.
Rebecca managed a bright smile for Mac. “Hey, big guy. What do you have in your hand?”
“Money,” he said, calming at the sight of her.
“You’re rich.” She met Cole’s gaze. “Can we talk, please?”
“About what?”
“About everything.” Desperation punctuated her words. “What are you going to do?”
“Pack up the boys and leave.”
Her face crumpled. Tears welled in her eyes. “Where are you taking them?”
“California, likely.”
Teardrops spilled down her cheeks. “That’s so far. Mac won’t understand. He doesn’t even know you.”
“He will in time,” he said unable to keep the venom from his voice.
“I’m his mother.”
“Lily was his mother.”
“I am his mother now.”
“Mama,” Mac said. His bottom lip started to quiver as he squirmed in Cole’s arms.
Cole held the child tight. “You can pack a bag for him or I can, it doesn’t matter to me.”
Her hands shook as she reached out to Mac. “Please, don’t do this. Surely, we can come up with an arrangement.”
“You were willing to shut me out of my son’s life completely.”
She winced. “And I will always regret that.”
He didn’t enjoy seeing her suffer, but she deserved it. She’d tried to steal his son. She’d broken his heart.
“Good.” He slammed the door in her face.
Rebecca knew the true meaning of hell.
She sat on Mac’s bed, numb and unable to think or move. The air trapped in her lungs bore down on her heart like granite. She was losing her baby.
She glanced down on the floor and saw Mac’s blanket lying next to a pile of toys. She lifted the downy soft cotton blanket and rubbed it against her cheek. It held Mac’s scent, a sweet blend of milk and his own musk.
“My baby.” Rocking, she clutched the blanket to her chest and started to cry again.
Bess found Rebecca then. She went to her and wrapped her arms around Rebecca. “What’s he gonna do?”
“He’s taking Mac and Dusty away to California.”
“California! He can’t take them that far away.”
Rebecca shook her head. “I’ve pleaded with him. But he’s too angry to listen.”
“Then I’ll talk to him.”
“I don’t think it’ll do any good.”
“Maybe when he cools off, he’ll see things in a different light. In the morning, perhaps.”
“He’s leaving today.” It hurt to speak. “I’m supposed to be packing Mac’s clothes now.”
Bess’s face tightened. “I can’t believe he’s doing this.”
“It’s like a terrible nightmare.”
Bess rose. “I’ll talk to Cole.”
“I don’t think he’ll listen.”
Her chin trembled. “Well, that ain’t gonna stop me from trying.”
Rebecca watched Bess leave. When the door closed she heard the older woman knock on Cole’s door. Cole’s door opened. There was an exchange of words. His door closed. Bess’s soft sobs drifted down the hallway.
Rebecca dug her fingernails into her palms.
It was as if she were watching actors on a stage. Any minute she expected intermission and the actors to take their bows. And the horror of it all would be over.
She rose slowly, her knees almost too weak to hold her weight. In a trance, she made her way over to the small wooden chest where she stored Mac’s clothes. She swung open the lid and peered inside at the collection of clothes.
An infant’s gown caught her eye. She picked up the white linen nightie, marveling that Mac had ever been so small. Bess had said it was foolish for Rebecca to keep the clothes. After all, the doctor had said she’d likely never have another child, yet she’d clung to the garments and the memories that came with them.
Rebecca had nursed Mac, cared for him through the chicken pox and scarlet fever and now, God help her, she had to give him up.
She clutched the gown to her face. It didn’t matter that her heart was breaking. What mattered was Mac. She needed to be strong and pack the things that gave him comfort.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she pulled out fresh diapers, pants, shirts and socks for her son. Numb, she rose and shoved the items in a cloth bag. She picked up the blanket and hugged it once again. Reluctantly, she pushed it into the bag.
When she dragged herself downstairs, Cole and the boys waited for her. He’d saddled his horse and packed his and Dusty’s few belongings into his saddlebags. Mac sat on the saddle, holding on to the pommel. He look so small—just a baby. Dusty held the reigns, standing tall and proud. Worry lines etched his forehead.
Around them stood Gladys and Gene Applegate, Prudence, Seth, Wade and a collection of other people. They all stood silently watching, their expressions grim.
Bess rushed out with a pail stuffed with food and covered with a checkered cloth. Her eyes were puffy and red. “I packed you food for the road.”
Cole shook his head. “No, thanks.”
Bess started to cry and Wade hugged her to his chest.
Prudence dabbed a handkerchief to her red eyes. “This is all my fault. I’m so sorry.”
Gene Applegate stepped past Prudence ignoring her sobs. He hooked his thumbs in his suspenders. “What about the mine? You’re still gonna reopen it, aren’t you?”
Cole tightened his fist. “No. You’re on your own.”
“But we need you,” Mrs. Applegate protested.
Cole shrugged. “Too bad.”
“We’ll waive the taxes,” Gene said.
“I don’t want anything from you or anyone else in this town.”
Rebecca pushed past Gene and stepped up to Cole, Mac’s bag clutched in her fingers. “Don’t do this. We all want you to stay.”
His face looked chiseled of granite. “Are those Mac’s clothes?”
“Yes.”
He reached for the bag, but she clutched it tight. Their fingers brushed and for an instant their gazes locked. She imagined she saw a hint of pity in his cold green eyes, but it was gone so quickly she was certain she’d imagined it.
Cole McGuire had no heart.
“I’ve packed his blanket and plenty of diapers. Have you ever changed a diaper?”
“I’ll manage.”
Her brows knotted. “The blue pants are his favorite and I’ve packed his white nightshirt. It’s stained, but he won’t sleep without it.”
Cole ripped the bag from her hands.
“If you stayed an extra day or two, I could teach you how to care for him.”
“I’ll figure it out.” He strode over to the horse, tied the bag to his saddle and hoisted himself up behind Mac, then in one clean move he pulled Dusty up behind him.
“Mama!” Mac called.
Dusty sniffed. “Miss Rebecca. I sure am going to miss you.”
Rebecca staggered forward. Her fingers grazed Cole’s hard leg. Her stomach clenched. There was no one to help her. No one to stop this horrible nightmare. “My boys.”
She grabbed ahold of Cole’s leg. She stared up into his face silhouetted by the afternoon sun. “Mac hates green beans and he hates the dark. Make sure someone teaches Dusty his letters. He’s smart and a fast learner.”
Cole gripped the reins. “I’ll take it from here.”
“Cole, don’t do this,” she sobbed, praying she’d reach him. “Please. I’ll do anything.”
“Goodbye, Rebecca.” He kicked his heels into the horse’s side, goading him forward.
Rebecca dropped to her knees, unm
indful of the dirt and mud staining her dress. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. She realized she had bitten her lip so hard, it bled.
Chapter Twelve
The small campfire Cole had built cracked and sputtered as if it couldn’t decide whether it should go out or catch. A freshly skinned rabbit, still half-raw, hung on a makeshift spit over the flames. Stars twinkled around thunderclouds and the wind howled.
With Dusty at his side, Cole reclined on an army blanket spread over the hard ground, Mac in his arms. The boy had finally fallen into a light sleep, but the slightest movement startled him awake.
Dusty squatted in front of the fire, his hands stretched toward the flames and a blanket draped over his shoulders. “Maybe, we should go home.”
“We’re not going back.”
Dusty’s lips curved down. “I was getting mighty used to sleeping in a bed and eating hot food.”
Cole leaned forward and turned the spit. “We’ve got blankets to keep us warm and we’ll have hot food before you know it.”
“I’m hungry now.”
Cole forced a smile. “You’re just gonna have to wait.”
Dusty stared at the half-cooked rabbit then grimaced. “It doesn’t look like it’s gonna taste very good.”
“It’ll taste just fine,” Cole said, annoyed.
“Rebecca’s cooking is the best.”
At the sound of his mother’s name Mac started awake. “I want Mama!”
Tension crept up Cole’s back and tightened around the base of his skull like an iron band. “She’s not here.”
Mac wailed and struggled to get out of Cole’s arms. “Mama, Mama, Mama.”
Clouds circled the moon, promising rain before daybreak. This night couldn’t get much worse.
Dusty sniffed. “Mac’s not smelling too good.”
“What do you mean?” Cole had been so focused on the boy’s crying he’d not noticed his smell. He did now. “Get his bag from my saddlebag. Dig out a diaper.”
Dusty grumbled and pushed himself to his feet. He retrieved the bag Rebecca had packed for Mac and dropped it in front of Cole. “Don’t expect me to help!”
Cole balanced Mac in one hand and opened the sack with the other. “It can’t be that bad.”
“Wanna bet?”
Cole pulled out a fresh diaper. “We’re a team now, Dusty.”
The boy shook his head after getting another whiff of Mac. “Every man for himself.”
“Traitor.”
Cole laid Mac on the blanket, then wrestled the boy’s shoes and pants off. As if approaching a den of snakes, he carefully opened Mac’s diaper. His stomach roiled at what he found. “Boy, whatever you do, don’t move.”
Mac cried louder and started to kick his feet. “Mama!”
Cole grabbed the boy’s legs. “Stop moving, boy, or we’re gonna have one mess on our hands.”
Mac strained against Cole’s grip. He screamed louder and his face turned scarlet. “No! No! No!”
Cole cursed. He raised Mac’s bottom and snatched out the dirty diaper. He grabbed a fresh cloth and wiped the boy clean even as the child yelled and clenched his bottom tight.
He grabbed a diaper and cursed as he tried to smooth it flat with one hand and hold the boy still with the other. “How about a dollar?”
“Mama!”
Nauseated, Cole tied the ends in loose sloppy knots. He scooped up Mac and held him close as he breathed a sight of relief. Somehow, he’d survived this first ordeal as a father and had managed.
“Miss Rebecca always washes him with soap and water,” Dusty said.
Cole grunted. “This will have to do until we get to a town.”
Dusty nodded to the soiled diaper. “What are you gonna do with that?”
“Bury it.”
“Miss Rebecca washes ’em out.”
Cole stared at the bundled dirty diaper. “Like hell.”
“You’ll run out of diapers in a couple of days if you don’t.”
“I’ll buy new ones.” He hoisted Mac up and looked him in the eye. “You feel better now, right partner?”
Mac stuck out his bottom lip. “Mama.”
Cole’s jaw hardened. Damn Rebecca. She’d done this to them. If only she’d been honest—trusted him—they could all be together at the Shady Grove living as a family.
He wrapped Mac in a blanket and set him down next to Dusty. Reaching for the spit he turned the rabbit, now blackened on the underside from the flames.
Another hour passed before the rabbit was ready to eat. Each time Cole offered Mac a piece, he pushed the dried out bits of flesh away. Dusty complained about the meat’s bland taste after he swallowed each mouthful. Cole bit into a chunk of meat that wasn’t so charred. It tasted bland and was as chewy as leather.
Just after midnight, Mac, exhausted from his cries, fell asleep in Cole’s arms. Cole stared into the flickering flames, his head pounding. Dusty had stopped his tossing and turning and now lay curled by the fire with a horse blanket around him.
Cole’s right arm had started to cramp from the weight of Mac’s sleeping body. He leaned forward and tried to lay the child on a blanket, but the boy stirred restlessly and started to whimper.
Cole straightened immediately. The last thing he needed was for the boy to start crying again.
Resigned, Cole relaxed against a rock. He stared into his child’s troubled face. Sadness touched his heart. “Lily would have wanted better for you, boy.”
Cole held Mac’s small hand against his own. His tiny fingers barely covered his own palm. Everything about the child smacked of a miracle.
If he’d not come to town three years ago and seen Lily again…if Lily hadn’t wanted their child…if Rebecca hadn’t nursed him, there’d be no Mac.
Cole smoothed Mac’s silky hair off his face, then touched the wrinkle in the middle of his forehead. Even in sleep the boy looked troubled.
Rebecca’s brow wrinkled in just the same way when she was worried.
Rebecca.
A coyote howled in the distance and the wind rustled through the trees.
There was no doubt Rebecca loved Mac. Cole remembered the way she’d begged him not to take the boy. Pity stirred in his heart.
He quelled the softer emotion, reminding himself that Rebecca had brought this all on herself.
Mac stirred restlessly in his arms and whimpered, “Mama.” Cole rocked the boy until he quieted again.
Managing the two boys alone, journeying to California and getting a job was gonna take everything Cole had in him. He remembered how his own ma had struggled to raise him alone. She’d worked long hours and Cole had missed her desperately during the lonely nights he lay curled in his bed. Every noise and shadow had scared him. Each time she’d left, he’d feared she’d never come back.
Cole didn’t want that kind of life for Mac or Dusty.
But that was exactly the kind of life they were headed toward if he remained a father alone with two boys to raise. There were women he could hire to care for them, but the children would never know the kind of love that Rebecca had given them. A mother’s love.
Mac woke up, took one look at Cole and started crying. Cole pinched the bridge of his nose. He glanced past the fire’s cold embers at Dusty’s small frame huddled uncomfortably in a ball on the hard ground.
Both children deserved better than this.
Cole stared up into the black sky and thrust out a ragged sigh.
As much as he hated to admit it, he needed Rebecca.
* * *
Cole awoke at first light. His eyes stung and the muscles in his back bunched into tight knots.
He hoisted Mac and himself up. A thousand needles pricked his legs, stiff from sitting in one position all night. He winced and stomped his feet against the cold ground.
Dusty peeked out from under his blanket. Dark circles hung under his eyes. “What time is it?”
Guilt slammed into Cole. Just yesterday the boy had been freshly scrubbed and
dressed in clean clothes. The worry lines that had disappeared under Rebecca’s care had returned.
“Time to go home,” Cole grumbled.
Dusty yawned and scratched his head. “How long you reckon it’s gonna take us to get to California?”
“We’re not going to California. We’re going back to White Stone.”
Dusty’s shoulders jerked up straight. “You mean we’re going home!”
The boy’s enthusiasm pricked Cole’s pride. “Yes.”
“To Miss Rebecca’s?”
“Yep.”
At the sound of his mother’s name, Mac stopped fussing. “Mama.”
Dusty jumped to his feet. “Did you hear that, Mac? We’re going home!”
Mac pulled his thumb out of his mouth and grinned. “Mama. Home.”
Cole scooped up his blankets, rolled them up and tied them with a piece of rawhide.
Dusty gathered the tin cups they’d used the night before and packed them in Cole’s saddlebag. Mac scrambled to his feet, grabbed his baby blanket and thrust it at Cole for packing.
Cole took the blanket, his heart filled with love and sadness. He wanted to scoop his son up in his arms and tell him how much he loved him, but he held back, fearing the boy would start crying again.
Cole had hoped his love was enough to make up for taking the boy from Rebecca, but he’d been wrong. Mac adored Rebecca.
“Thanks, partner.”
“Hope she’s made pancakes this morning,” Dusty said, a dreamy quality in his voice. “They’re the best. She’s the best.”
A retort stung the back of Cole’s throat. He had half a mind to tell Dusty that Rebecca wasn’t what she seemed. Instead he swallowed the bitterness. Dusty loved Rebecca, and Cole couldn’t rob the child of his love when he’d had so little of it in his life.
Within ten minutes the trio was packed and mounted on Cole’s horse. As Dusty chatted happily, anxious to get home, Cole slipped into an uneasy silence.
Two hours later they reached White Stone. Tall gray buildings rose from the valley, an island nestled in a sea of mountains. Cole rubbed the stubble on his chin. He couldn’t deny a part of him was glad to be back.
They’d barely reached the outskirts of town, when Prudence Weatherby spotted them. She stood by the mercantile with her shopping basket in hand, her mouth agape as Cole guided his horse down the center of town.